Bat out of Hell
by gerbilHunter
Summary: One-shot, inspired by the song (written by Jim Steinman and recorded by Meat Loaf). My version of a songfic.


Bat out of Hell. Inspired by the song.

One-shot; my version of a songfic. Post _So the Drama_ , and season four never happened. KiGo, of a sort.

Disclaimer: The Kimmiverse belongs to Disney. "Bat out of Hell" belongs to Jim Steinman. My words belong to me. This story is fair use for no profit.

Note: The lyrics to "Bat out of Hell" are available all over the web, as are recorded performances. I have included enough to pin the story to the song, but the whole song is well worth listening to. Several times over.

* * *

 _Prelude: Piano, drums, guitar, violin  
_

 _~o~o~o~_

The first time was four months after the fight atop the Bueno Nacho tower. The fight that ended with her being booted into another tower, that ended Drakken's one real shot at world domination, that ended with those words that she so richly deserved.

"You know what I really hate?... You!"

She had woken dazed, slept fitfully for a few days as she healed, and finally emerged to see what she had done, what she had helped to create. She escaped the hospital largely as a matter of habit, but also because the level of hatred that leaked past the professional detachment of the nurses was unnerving even to her. She walked out of the building wearing the stolen clothing of a hospital accounts manager, the harsh fluorescent lighting making everybody's skin look as pale and washed out as her own.

Half of Middleton was damaged, the residential areas having taken the worst of it. The Li'l Diablos had not been programmed to kill, and so deaths were minimal and accidental. Several heart attacks had occurred, and several more people had died stampeding away from the fearsome creations. They were perhaps not directly her work, but they were her doing nonetheless. She had never killed, but she had told herself it was because anyone could kill, and she was more than that. She wasn't a simple thug. Now, she thought maybe what she called herself didn't matter.

She had never taken it seriously, any of it. The outlandish plots and petty rivalries of the so-called supervillians had only amused her. It had taken that night to make it real to her, and the sight of the damage to drive it home. Because she had never taken it seriously, she had never truly considered the effects on real people. She had never been the hero that her older brother Hego had wanted her to be, and now she realized that she had also never been so evil as she had pretended to be.

She was just another sinner. Never religious, this was not a spiritual thought. It was just the realization that she, like almost everyone else on the planet, was just another vain, silly, selfish twit. She might be the best thief currently known, one of the top two or three fighters alive, and wanted in probably every civilized nation on Earth, but in the end she was just another sinner. And that, to her, was much worse. She needed to be something more. Something different, at least.

Kim Possible was, of course, everywhere in the rebuilding effort. Shego watched on television as she and Stoppable helped, aiding in finding the injured, swinging hammers to repair homes, serving as rallying points and inspiration. She found herself looking away whenever they held hands or hugged. The grunt work of rebuilding went quickly once James Possible had reprogrammed the Li'l Diablos to lift and carry lumber and supplies, perform simple masonry, and the like. That left the fine work and detailed carpentry to humans, and the outpouring of support from around the nation had meant that there were many hands for each task.

For herself, Shego simply disappeared. She had money she could use, a few places she could go. With the world on alert and every decent human being against her, her life was spent in the shadows and alone. She brooded, she watched television or surfed the web, she read books. She exercised. And she kept up with the actions of Kim Possible.

Finally, her loneliness and her fascination with Kim had pulled her out of seclusion. Kim was helping after an earthquake in northern Italy, and Shego flew her stealth hovercraft there. Nobody cared who this new volunteer was, this woman who worked silently, who seemed abnormally strong and all but tireless, who could find and reach survivors where others held little hope. At first they thought she was a victim, her skin the pale green of nausea and terror, but she turned to and the others found themselves working twice as hard as they had earlier, trying to keep up. The only words she spoke had to do with the tasks at hand, or to turn away thanks with a brusque denial that she had done anything of note. After twenty-eight straight hours, the efforts were less frantic and the word of her was beginning to spread, and she simply walked away. She had not seen Kim nor heard her voice, but having been in the same area, engaged in the same task, had been what she needed. Her soul somewhat eased, she faded back into the shadows.

It was the third occasion, five months later, before she laid eyes on her princess. A refugee camp in Africa, where Kim was helping to distribute food and medicine, her presence serving to bring some attention to the plight of those living there. Shego had come to be near her, and because she knew that in such circumstances there would be the vultures, those who live off the suffering of others. Shego had just beaten, badly, a group of four men armed with machetes who would have stolen the food of several families, to re-sell outside of the camp, when she had turned to see the redhead approaching.

The sight of the young hero, her eyes shining even here, her hair ablaze in the brilliant sun, brought realization to her. It should have been obvious, she thought. She turned back to the would-be thieves, and spoke to the two still conscious.

"She brings the light. Where there is light, there are shadows. I'm the shadows." She looked across ten feet at the redhead, the hero, and as she heard the tentative, "Shego?" she walked behind a tent and was gone. Kim, surrounded by refugees loudly explaining what had happened, how the pale, silent woman had surgically disarmed and defeated the men, was unable to follow.

This and other occurrences darkened Shego's already dim view of humanity. She sometimes wondered why Kim cared so much about people; silly, scared, stupid, selfish people. Most were sheep, and where there were sheep there were wolves. Kim was an occasional shepherd, and occasionally she did some good. But it was never worth the effort. Over the months, Kim lost her chance to attend college, having missed too much time and too many classes in high school to score well. Nonetheless accepted to a university, she was unable to consistently attend and was forced to drop out. She held a part-time job, all she could maintain and still jet off around the world on her missions. She even lost her boyfriend and sidekick. Shego assumed that once out of high school, Stoppable finally needed a life that was more stable, that was more than what Kim could give him after devoting herself first to the entire rest of the world.

Kim had, Shego thought, given up too much in service to a world that did not deserve her.

Wade Load finally found her email account, though not her physical location. She needed the account to get work, to accept the contracted thefts that were her specialty. She stole from corporations and governments, industrial and economic secrets, things she felt did no direct damage to anybody. It was what she did, after all, and it was what she could do and survive in the shadows. He sent a simple note, "Kim says thank you," after the Africa encounter, and again when Kim caught sight of her helping after a typhoon-driven flood in Indonesia. Shego supposed that despite the intricate computer security and encryption, Wade might be able to find her if he truly tried. She supposed that he had not, which meant that Kim had not asked him to. And that was fine. She did not deserve or desire the girl's attention.

There had been seven times that she had been unable to stay away from her princess, having emerged to be near her. She never approached the hero, and never stayed. Her help often included dissuading looting or profiteering, and her methods of persuasion were direct, immediate, and effective. She would work through the crisis, and when whatever dark circumstance had befallen was beginning to fade, she would disappear. She knew that in a few weeks she would feel the need to once again be close to the redhead, but until then, she would go back to the shadows.

This time was different. Now more than two years since that night on the tower, Wade had sent her a brief note. "Kim is in Los Angeles. Guzmàn has hired l'Espada to kill her."

The hero had apparently gotten in the way. The Mexican drug wars were stupid, endless, and medieval in their violence. Police officers, journalists, and innocent bystanders were slaughtered and often tortured by men without humanity, men whom Shego would herself kill without compunction. And Kim had been on some innocent errand in Mexico when she had rescued a journalist from such men. The journalist had published his story, leading to a local mayor being arrested by federal police, a local drug lieutenant being shot by vigilantes, and Kim being marked for death by the vengeful drug lord.

So now Shego stood in the late night darkness under a cloudy sky, rumbling with the approach of a storm, looking down at the city from the Hollywood Hills. Far to her right, there was a brief flash of light near the UCLA campus. In the area that interested her, a fire grew in an industrial park. Invisible from this distance, she knew that people roamed the streets, some of them sheep hurrying home, others wolves with dark desires, or hyenas hoping to dine off the leavings of the strong. Far fewer were those under flashing lights and wailing sirens, trying to stem the bleeding.

Her few thoughts black with hatred for those who would harm her princess, Shego kicked her motorcycle to life and leaned forward into the acceleration. In her mind's eye she could see herself sweeping down on them, bringing ferocity and terror, like a bat out of Hell.

 _~o~o~o~_

 _The sirens are screaming and the fires are howling_  
 _Way down in the valley tonight_ _..._  
 _There's evil in the air and thunder in the sky_  
 _And a killer's on the bloodshot streets_ _..._

 _~o~o~o~_

Kim stretched in her motel room, reaching high, then folding forward into a handstand. She did a dip, cycled her legs, and smoothly brought her feet back to the floor. Standing, she exhaled completely and drew breath deep into her lungs. It was near midnight, and she was tired. Finally alone, her police escort in the next room and the local reporters gone, she prepared for sleep.

Kim had never gotten used to the public interest in her. It had been part of what had separated her from Ron, though there had been many other aspects to that particular price she had paid. But it also enabled her to help others, as with this trip to a small children's hospital. A victim of well-intended minimum wage and workplace regulations, it was unable to afford staff and required renovations. By visiting, Kim was able to bring attention to the problems it was facing. It also meant that she usually required a police escort during such visits, to keep the curious at bay and allow her some privacy. Though she hated the burden it placed on the local department, she was gratified to discover that the officers did not mind. Most of her escorts volunteered for the task. It was generally interesting, and the police appreciated her efforts. Still, she was greatly relieved at the end of the day, when she could finally drop her smile and be alone with her thoughts.

She was thinking about Shego. She hated being always alone. When she had lost Ron, she had lost something of herself. When the romance failed, he had needed to leave, to find what he could be other than her sidekick and companion. And when she thought about a companion who could match her, who would not be in her shadow, only one name, one face, came to mind. The woman who had been there several times now, always avoiding her, but showing by her strength and determination that she would be an equal. If only the woman would come to her, would talk to her. They'd figure something out.

She sighed, twisting, and was about to doff her shirt when a knock came on her door.

One of the two policemen who were her escorts was there. "Miss Possible? Somebody fired a rocket-propelled grenade at the Federal Building over on Wilshire a few minutes ago."

What did this have to do with her? There would be a huge response to that, and it wasn't the sort of thing she could deal with. Unless it was one of her particular villains. "Was it Drakken? Or Dementor?"

"Nobody knows. It seems to have been a drive-by. There was some damage, but not a lot. But it's got just about everybody in that division over there. Between that and a hostage situation a few miles from here, we're stretched pretty thin. So we've been asked to go look at a fire a couple of blocks from here. It's in an industrial area, a couple of warehouses. Shouldn't be any problem, and it was probably deserted. The Fire Department is on their way." The man shrugged helplessly. "I know we're supposed to protect you, but it's late and everybody's gone."

"No big." The nineteen year old hero reached for a light jacket. "I'll go with you. There might be somebody there who needs help. I know the firefighters will have it under control, but I might be able to help."

As the unmarked police car pulled out, the tired redhead in the back seat, one of the officers noticed the motorcycle cruising slowly down the block. He dismissed it from his mind, seeing nothing to warrant further notice.

Shego swore to herself. They were heading toward the burning warehouse, the glow of the flames now visible a few blocks away. Such a simple ploy. The earpiece in her helmet was connected to a scanner tuned to police frequencies; Shego knew about the hostage situation and the Federal Building explosion. She would bet a year's earnings that they were distractions. The warehouse fire was set to draw the hero. Of course she would come along with her escort. And the killer would be waiting.

Shego, too, would be there. Her lips drew back to bare her teeth. No one seeing would have mistaken it for a smile.

 _~o~o~o~_

The hero and her escort reached the small industrial park a few minutes after the fire engines. Bolt cutters had been used to open the gate, and jacketed men were unrolling hoses, choosing nozzles, and cracking the valve on the standpipe at the corner of one of the buildings. The fire was raging higher, a second building had caught, and who knew what might be stored inside them. Explosions were common in these situations.

As all this was going on, Kim saw a flash of light between two buildings on the other side of the parking lot. She pointed it out to one of the police officers with her. One officer stayed with the firefighters, while Kim and the other went to investigate. It could be an arsonist, but it equally likely could be someone injured or trapped.

Kim and the officer ran between the buildings and found themselves in an open area about sixty feet by forty. It was surrounded on three sides by single-story buildings, each divided into several sections. Most housed a small business that made small things for a small market. Each had a door. And from several of the doors emerged men. One stepped quickly behind the police officer and hit him expertly with a blackjack.

There were a dozen or more men, hired from a local gang affiliated with the Mexican drug lord who had sent l'Espada. They stood leering at the teenaged redhead as the killer emerged, the blade that gave him his name held before him. It was a katana, forty-two inches of fine steel, and he held it with casual expertise.

"Chica," he began, and Kim heard a slight sound behind her as one of the others tried to surprise her. She ducked forward, kicking backwards and taking her assailant in the solar plexus. She moved into the center of the open area as the men swarmed around her. She knew she could expect no help for some time. She was out of view of the firefighters, and if the other half of her escort came to check on her, he would be taken by a lookout. This was well-planned, and she would have to fight her way out. She shrugged. So be it.

The man with the blade called to her. "I promised them first try, chica. But do not worry. I will be waiting if you survive."

Kim turned in the center of the crowd. None of the men facing her had guns out. It was too crowded, and anyway they would want to prove they were better than a slight young girl barely a year out of high school. One of them finally broke from the circle and dove at her. She skipped sideways just enough to be out of the path of his shoulder and smacked him with a backfist directly behind the ear. As he went down, she saw a body drop lightly from the roof of the building to her left.

Shego landed in complete silence. Only the motion of Kim's head in that direction alerted the men surrounding her. They turned to look, and the pale woman in black clothing swept into them, a demon among children. As they gaped in amazement, Kim used the distraction and attacked as well.

 _And this,_ Shego thought, _is worth living for_. The two women moved gracefully among the clumsier men, a vicious ballet. Like big cats among wildebeest they leapt and spun and struck. Once, their eyes caught, and Shego saw the light of battle in Kim's eyes. She knew it danced in her own as well, and she laughed aloud in the sheer joy of action, of action with her princess. She knew it would be over in minutes and she would return to where she belonged, but for now her body sang with strength and speed, with the purpose for which she was born and made.

 _~o~o~o~_

 _Oh, baby you're the only thing in this whole world_  
 _That's pure and good and right..._

 _~o~o~o~_

In the distance was the roar of flame and the calls of men fighting those flames, and more distant was the rush of traffic and distant wail of sirens rushing to some other crisis. Above them was the rumble of thunder. And rising above all that still, Shego's laughter owned the night. Kim responded with a grin, and the men attacking them paused in wonder. Used to even strong men fearing them, they could not fathom two women who reacted so. Some tried to retreat, and in others the fear drove them to greater ferocity.

It didn't matter. The women wove among them, a coldly beautiful tapestry of efficient violence. The redhead's blows were quick and precise, her kicks knocking the wind out of her targets and setting them up for hand strikes that knocked them senseless. The larger, black-haired woman struck with more force, a mace to the other's rapier, letting her hands and feet break bones. Only the sure knowledge of Kim's disapproval kept her from even stronger blows, strikes that might maim or kill.

 _Oh Gods, if this could be my life,_ thought the pale woman. _Dancing with Princess like this!_ But she knew this was not her place, that she did not belong at the side of the redhead, the world's hero. She would return, as demons must, to the shadows.

 _~o~o~o~_

 _Like a bat out of Hell I'll be gone when the morning comes_  
 _But when the day is done and the sun goes down and the moonlight's shining through_  
 _Then like a sinner before the gates of Heaven_  
 _I'll come crawling on back to you._

 _~o~o~o~_

When only three of the men were left standing, one of them pulled out a pistol. It was ugly and grey, large caliber and heavy. He brought it up quickly, grinning with the knowledge of his certain victory over these women. He knew of Kim Possible, but had not truly believed in her skill. This other one he did not know, but with two hundred and thirty grains of lead in the barrel, it didn't matter. He began to aim at the teenager, and never saw the green blast of energy that fractured his skull, knocking him immediately unconscious.

Kim paused less than a second before executing a skipping side kick that put one of the remaining pair out of action. At the same instant, the side of Shego's hand struck the jaw of the other thug, and he too was dropping. Kim turned to Shego and began to step toward her. "Shego," she began, but was interrupted by a word from the edge of the battlefield. l'Espada waited, his blade at the ready, and spoke.

"That was truly impressive. And Shego, I did not expect you to be here with her." The assassin was unsure of his next move. He was certain he could take either of the women alone, but perhaps not both. Shego's presence was a confounding factor. She had been almost completely absent from the criminal world for two years. She was no assassin, he knew, but what exactly was she, these days?

Without waiting for anything further, Shego picked up the pistol that had been dropped seconds earlier. She glanced at it, noted that the slide indicated a round in the chamber, and turned to the assassin. The report echoed as she casually shot him in his right thigh. He dropped to the ground, the heavy bullet having shattered his femur. Kim stood, shocked, as Shego stepped to the man and knelt over him, shaking the clip from the automatic as she did. The pale warrior drove the barrel of the pistol between the crippled man's lips. Teeth broke against steel as the gunsight raked the inside of his mouth.

"You are alive so that you can tell Guzmàn, and everyone else, that Kim Possible is to be left alone. If anyone harms her, I will come for them. I will find them. And I will kill them in ways that will make even you barbarians hide in your mother's skirts."

As she stood, the killer's terrified eyes locked on her, she felt Kim at her side. She turned towards the girl.

"Shego?" The teen reached for her, but Shego did not respond and the redhead stopped, her hand halfway out to the other woman. The thief stood silent for three or four seconds, her eyes searching the face of the beautiful young hero. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Princess." She turned and began to walk away.

"For what?" Asked in genuine curiosity.

The pale warrior only shrugged. She was difficult to understand against the background noise, but Kim thought she replied, "For life. For everything. For what I am."

"No, Shego! Stay with me!" The redhead started after her. Shego heard her move, and turned to her.

"I'll make certain that Guzmàn, and everyone else, understands that you're to be left alone."

"I can take care of myself, Shego! You don't need to do that. Stay with me!"

"It's what I'm good for, Kim. It's what I can do. And I don't belong here." She spun and took three quick steps towards the building from which she had dropped. An inhumanly strong leap took her nearly to the roof; a hand on the gutter gave her the rest of the lift she needed. A half second later, she was fleeing across the rooftop. Kim wanted to chase her, but a couple of her attackers had begun to stir, and she needed to check on the police officer who had been struck.

"Shego!" she called. "Stay with me!" But there was no reply.

Kim looked after the older woman. After a few seconds, she pulled her Kimmunicator from her pocket. "Not this time," she muttered aloud. The call to her technical guru went through and her device pinged.

"Wade? Shego was here. She expected trouble. There was a swordsman, from someone called Guzmàn."

The young genius looked warily out of the tiny screen. "The drug lord in Mexico. He's angry because you saved Salazar, the reporter, a couple of months ago."

Kim paused a second to knock a thug back to sleep as she walked. "She came and fought with me. Alongside me. And now she's gone. Again." She took a breath. "Find her, Wade. Track her, find her, whatever you need to do. I don't want her to disappear again. Please and thank you. Oh, and let the police know there are about fourteen men to arrest over here." She closed the device and went to help her escort, who was just coming around.

 _~o~o~o~_

 _Well I know that I'm damned if I never get out  
_ _And maybe I'm damned if I do_  
 _But with every other beat I've got left in my heart_  
 _You know I'd rather be damned with you_

 _~o~o~o~_

Shego heard her princess call, and it tore at her heart knowing that she had no place with the girl. Her darkness could never be a part of the hero's life. All she could do was occasionally warm herself at the edge of the light the hero brought with her.

She straddled her bike and took off, twisting through the streets and soon enough north of the city, slamming through Burbank and on into the desert. It was hours yet to daybreak, and she needed to put miles between herself and her princess. She felt weak near the redhead, her need to be near the girl overpowering her resolve to keep her darkness from tarnishing the hero's glow.

The warrior let her mind drift to the combat they had just shared. Those few minutes would warm her for weeks. She replayed their dance in her mind's eye. The glow in Kim's eyes was intoxicating to her. She could see that there was something in Kim that knew her, as she knew the redhead. Kim, too, was a warrior, but she was something more. Shego felt bitterness crashing in on her as she accepted that she was simple violence. Her princess _used_ violence; Shego _was_ violence. Kim was a surgeon. Shego was a butcher knife. She twisted the throttle harder and dove into the onrushing darkness.

 _Oh, Princess, if only..._

 _~o~o~o~_

 _If I gotta be damned, you know I want to be damned_  
 _Dancing through the night with you..._

 _~o~o~o~_

It was four o'clock in the morning when Kim was done with the police. All of her attackers had been taken away. l'Espada was in a hospital under guard, though the best guess was that it would be at least a week before he could walk even with crutches. She rang Wade, knowing that the young man would be awake. He did sleep, though she suspected he needed far less than most people. But he would be awake, waiting for more information, and knowing she would want to speak with him. It was part of the closure of a mission these days.

The fires were obvious arson, according to the firefighters. They were fairly easy to douse, as building fires went, and nobody had been hurt. Kim cared about none of it.

"Where is she, Wade?"

"I don't know, Kim. We know when she left, but the fires confused the satellite sensors. I can't pick her bike signature out of the background heat. There were several vehicles out on the roads at the time. I have to track all of them and eliminate the ones that aren't her."

"She'll be heading for the desert."

Wade was surprised. "How do you know that?"

"Mostly a feeling. And, well, the way she spoke. She feels like she has no place around people. She'll be in the desert. At least, she'll head that way. Who knows where she'll end up?"

"All right, Kim. Give me a couple of hours. Get some sleep. Call me when you wake up. I need to write a program and take a nap."

 _~o~o~o~  
_

 _Then I'm dying at the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun_  
 _Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike..._

 _~o~o~o~_

It was Wade who woke Kim.

"I think I've found her. It isn't good. She went off the road. I don't have a good view, and I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure. She's still there. She was on a side road off the main highway, and part of it got washed out. She went into a gully."

"She's still there? What do you mean?"

Wade swallowed. "I think she went off the road at high speed. The bike is toast. And Shego, if it's her... Well, she might be dead. There's a body near the motorcycle, and it isn't moving. The sun's coming up. If she isn't dead, she'll be in direct sunlight soon."

"Get me a ride?" Kim was dressing. Wade looked away; the redhead was so worried that she didn't bother hiding herself from his view.

"A helicopter will pick you up in ten, fifteen minutes in the parking lot where the fire was last night. The pilot's little girl is in the hospital you visited. He's happy to help. I'm filing his clearances now."

Forty minutes later, Kim was kneeling over Shego's body. The desert sun only an hour after dawn was already brutal. The redhead put herself between it and the still woman's head. She leaned down, trying to find a sign of life. She refused to believe that this woman could be dead.

"Shego." Kim was afraid to shake her, however gently. The rider's faceplate was shattered and a crack ran down the side of the helmet itself. Her leathers were torn, and one arm was obviously broken. Her back was twisted, but not so much that it was necessarily broken. The young woman bent to the older and begged. "Shego. Please be alive, Shego. Please don't leave. Stay with me, Shego. Come back with me." She squeezed the woman's hand.

She yelled up the side of the ravine. "It's Shego. Call Wade. Tell him we found her." She turned back to the figure in the ripped black leather.

"Come on, Shego. Be with me. I want you to be with me. Help is coming. We'll get you to a hospital. I'll make sure you're safe. I want you to be with me."

The pale green warrior heard, dimly. Deep inside her, she recognized the voice calling her. She recognized the emotion, the need in the voice. Could her princess truly want her to be with her? It was a new thought.

 _To dance with my princess..._

It was a new thought. It was a new vision of herself and her place and her future. Maybe, it could be a way out of Hell.

 _~o~o~o~_

 _And the last thing I see is my heart, still beating_  
 _Breaking out of my body and flying away_  
 _Like a bat out of Hell._

* * *

A/N: Yes, it's overwritten, overwrought, melodramatic, and overdone. But that's in keeping with the song that inspired it.


End file.
